


Numinous

by starlight_aurora (LessaimEternel)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: (don't worry it's only referenced as an off screen event), Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Character Tags to be Added - Freeform, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy, dark!ateez, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessaimEternel/pseuds/starlight_aurora
Summary: (adj.) describing an experience that makes you fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted --- the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspiredor;Wonderland has always existed. A place outside of time, hidden from the mundane world through powerful barriers meant to protect the idyllic wonders within. Beating at the very center of Wonderland lies the Heart, a font of untold power that keeps the Balance in all things: life, death, the very seasons. The Heart of Wonderland is, at its core, the very Heart of the World. Should the Heart ever fall to corruption or malcontent, the World will die.To protect this paradise, to protect the World, the Heart gave life to Guardians. Beings of light and hope, born wild and untamed, the Guardians help maintain the Balance. And in return, they nourish the Heart, keeping it protected. But not everything is always as it seems… and light must always be balanced by darkness.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	1. Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. So, this is my first proper addition to this tag... I hope you all enjoy it. I'm going to try and update this weekly/bi weekly, and I'm trying to have the next chapter written before I update, just so I don't leave you all waiting for too long.

When Wooyoung stumbles into the room at full speed, body colliding with the edge of one of the ornate chairs sitting around the dining table, he’s immediately greeted by the source of the high pitched shrieking he’s been hearing for the better half of fifteen minutes: the small device currently vibrating on the mahogany surface. Clutching at the arms of the chair before shoving both hands over his ears, Wooyoung winces at the near deafening shriek as he turns to watch Hongjoong stalk into the room. It doesn’t take long to recognize the tick of a vein in the elder’s neck, the steely fury in his eyes or the way his jaw tightens as signs of anger as he drops his fist down onto the coil of stone still vibrating sporadically on the table.   
  
The charm sputters out a death song, a warbled screech that soon fades into nothingness as it shatters under Hongjoong’s hand. Wooyoung sighs in relief at the silence that follows before pulling his hands away from his ears. He’s always hated Seonghwa’s charms. Noisy little things.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“Something tripped one of the border charms.”  
  
Wooyoung pauses, expression caught between confusion and wariness. “Which one?”  
  
“...”  
  
Hongjoong doesn’t speak at first, eyes slanting to where Seonghwa is standing just inside the door, preparing to leave. When his gaze returns to Wooyoung, his expression is hard, brow furrowed in thought. Wooyoung knows what that look means. That’s the look Hongjoong wears when he’s about to tell Wooyoung something he’d rather lie about. Hongjoong nods towards the table where the broken shards of the alert charm still faintly tremble with excess power. “That particular charm was tethered to the Seoul Tower portal. The only reason it would go off like that is if someone opened the portal and crossed over into Wonderland."  
  
_Seoul Tower._  
  
For a moment the room spins. Tips and turns in a way that leaves Wooyoung dizzy. No, _no no no no_. He doesn’t speak, stomach churning with anxious panic as his legs buckle underneath him. It can’t be. There’s no way. It’s not possible. He knows which portal that is. It hasn’t been active in over a year, not since they’d had to resort to sealing it shut with power none of them possessed anymore. Not since… Wooyoung sucks in a shaky breath, aware of the way Hongjoong’s hand sits firm on his arm, aware of the way Seonghwa watches him with a quiet concern across his angled, delicate features. He’s aware of the look they share, one of pity and sympathy, just as he’s aware of how much he hates it when they do that. But he can’t help it. Seoul Tower hasn’t been open since the ambush thirteen months ago. Only a being native to Wonderland, connected to the energies the Heart gave off, could access a previously sealed barrier. And there were only three of them left now.   
  
“...Wooyoung.”  
  
“Shut up, I’m fine,” Wooyoung pulls out of Hongjoong’s grip so fast that the motion makes him reel, dizziness kicking up to eleven as he catches himself against the table. “We need to catch whoever broke in. Before they get to the Heart. It’s not safe. Need to find out who opened the portal.”   
  
_No one outside this room can open the portal_.  
  
Unless... Wooyoung sighs, turning back to the older Guardians just in time to see the look they share. Fuck he wishes they wouldn’t do that. It makes him feel small. Like they don’t believe he can do this. Any of it. Like he’s nothing but a weak link, useless without someone at his side. Seonghwa turns to him, appraising him silently, before a small charm bag is tossed at him. Wooyoung catches it deftly, fingers curled around the worn cloth before his jaw clenches tight. There’s only a handful of people who could ever steal into Wonderland. And if they weren’t dead… they were enemies.   
  
“Woo, you good?”   
  
Wooyoung turns to Hongjoong. Their leader gives him a smile, one that’s reassuring and gentle, comforting almost. Wooyoung’s chest tightens and he nods, hopes to hell his voice doesn’t betray him again. “...Yes. Yeah, hyung. I’m good. We should go. Catch them before they get through the forest.”  
  
Catch them before they get to the Heart.  
  
In theory it’s a simple plan. They’re Guardians, after all. Their sole purpose is to protect the Heart of Wonderland, and the lands beyond it. They protect the balance in all things and the Heart beats at the very center of it all. It’s their whole reason for existing. If they can’t stop a single intruder within their own territory… how are they meant to protect the rest of the world?  
  
So yeah, in theory it’s a simple plan. In practice… 

  
  
“Those two really need to get out more. You never split up. Rule 1 of horror movies: never split up.”  
  
Wooyoung hadn’t approved of Hongjoong’s decision to try and flank the intruder before they got through the forest. Seonghwa hadn’t approved of Hongjoong’s decision either, but he’d always been weak to the younger and deferred to any choice their leader made with a quiet, calculating aura that often made Wooyoung question just how much of Seonghwa’s respect for Hongjoong was simply respect and not something else. They’d left Wooyoung to the direct path, trusting hs ability to not waver in the face of conflict. Should be fine. Totally fine. It’s not like Wooyoung hasn’t been in the face of danger before… they’ve been fighting for so long, it’s hard to remember a time when there hadn’t been some sort of trouble.   
  
It would be so nice to just not fight sometimes. But Wooyoung’s also been alive long enough to know that life doesn’t work like that. If you don’t fight to protect what you care about, you don’t deserve to keep it.  
  
This late at night, the forest feels at peace. Wooyoung’s fast pace slows to a walk, gaze dragging over the shadows that dance mockingly around him. The ground is solid beneath him, as always; unyielding, covered in a thick blanket of fallen leaves. Low hanging branches heavy with strange and brightly colored fruits sway in the wind, leaves cascading down in vibrant curtains. In the distance, the lone, braying cry of an animal. A wolf maybe, or a fox. Grasping the small satchel tight in his palm, Wooyoung continues through the trees, his attention split between the path before him and the subtle shifts of movement around him.   
  
He’s never been good at multitasking. All it takes is one slight shift in his focus, the way his eyes linger too long on the escaping form of a fox, or his thoughts drift back to happier times, a gentle smile, a sweet laugh. One slip is all it takes.   
  
It’s then that he sees the shadows move between the trees. As large as a man, the shapeless form ducks between bushes and around gnarled trunks. Wooyoung’s eyes struggle to follow the movement even as he moves along the path to keep up. For what seems like an eternity, Wooyoung follows the shadow as best he can until he stumbles into a clearing far from Wonderland’s borders. The shadow stands in front of him, bathed in just enough moonlight for Wooyoung to realize it’s not just a shadow.   
  
It’s a person.   
  
The intruder.  
  
Before Wooyoung can really understand what’s happening, the forest around him falls silent. Normally there were the quiet nuances - the whisper of a breeze through the leaves; the scurry of insects running over trodden undergrowth; the louder; heavier footsteps of larger animals searching for food or a quiet place to sleep. But as his attention returns to the figure half shrouded in darkness, the prickling awareness that the forest should not be this silent dawns on him. It's eerie, really, just how quiet it is. What he had grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly falling away as if it hadn't existed at all. His expression hardens and he takes a step forward. Shadows linger in the corners of his vision, threatening to envelope him in the same darkness that he's fought so hard to avoid. The figure before him doesn't move, barely even breathes. Expression hardening, Wooyoung takes another step forward.   
  
"...who are you?" It's meant to sound more assertive, more aggressive, but what comes out is a quiet, strangled noise that makes him cringe. _Man up, Wooyoung. You've done this before. This is nothing_.  
  
The shadow doesn’t speak. Wooyoung isn’t even sure they’re breathing, whoever they are. Every inch of his screams to move. To make the first move. To get the upper-hand. Swallowing, Wooyoung clenches his hands into fists before flinching when something sharp digs into his palm. Oh. The charm bag. Wooyoung had forgotten Seonghwa had given him that. Careful to keep his motions as subtle as possible, he slowly shifts his hands out of view, fingers trembling slightly as he tries to open the bag.   
  
If he can get a charm out, he’ll be able to immobilize the intruder before they can get any further.   
  
Wooyoung frowns, brows furrowed in concentration as he keeps his eyes on the shadow. Despite being close enough to make out the shape of broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he still can’t make out a face. All he can really tell is the intruder is male. Which doesn’t help. What also doesn’t help is how tight Seonghwa ties the strings on his charm bags. Growling softly, Wooyoung struggles with the knot, attention drifting away from the intruder for only a few moments.   
  
All at once it feels like the air is being knocked from his lungs. In one second, he's upright, arms swinging wildly before him. In the next, he's flat on his back. The sudden change in position sends his senses reeling, and for a moment he can't tell which way is up, whether he's staring up at the inky darkness of a cloudy sky, or the empty nothingness of the void. And then, before he even realizes it, there are hands on his arms. Strong fingers dig into his flesh, hard enough to leave bruises he will no doubt feel for the days to come. A weight crashes down onto him, and then everything goes dark.   
  
No. Not dark. Just hazy.   
  
Blinking away the vertigo, Wooyoung sucks in a shaky breath as he struggles against the figure that holds him down. One leg comes up. A knee connects with something solid. The weight shifts for a moment, long enough for Wooyoung to push all his strength into one shove forward. In seconds, he has the figure pinned beneath him. Leaves cling to his lavender hair, stick to his arms and back, but they don't matter. Nothing matters when he finally gets a good look at the person who had broken into Wonderland, the shadowy figure who had opened one of their barriers - a barrier only a Guardian could open - and stepped foot into protected territory.   
  
"... _San?_ ”   
  
Wooyoung's voice betrays him again, brows knitting tight in panicked surprise as his eyes flit over angled cheekbones, a sharp jawline, plush lips he can still remember the taste and touch of. And things he doesn’t remember. A cut splitting his left eyebrow. A line cutting into the right side of his jaw. A tiny whorl of scarring across the rise of one cheek.   
  
"Wooyoung..."  
  
The soft pitch of San’s voice has Wooyoung tensing as a tidal wave of memory and emotion wash over him. The intensity of it threatens to strangle him as his fingers curl tighter around slender wrists, as his knees squeeze against narrow hips. His breath catches in his throat, sharp and jagged at the edges, and as he chokes on it, San’s eyes widen slightly. Wooyoung watches his lips part but he can’t hear the words. He feels detached. Cold. Like he’s trapped inside a fishbowl. Hazy. His blood roars in his ear like a fierce storm. The edges of his vision blur and for a very real moment it feels like he’s going to cry. San speaks again, the words distant and muted, and Wooyoung’s gaze drops to watch the way his lips move.   
  
He doesn’t cry. No matter how much his eyes sting and no matter how much his chest aches, Wooyoung doesn’t cry. His grip tightens around San’s wrists as the ache shifts from anguish into something far more visceral: anger.  
  
“No! No, it can’t be you. I watched you get dragged away. You were dead. I watched you die!” The anger remains in his voice, firm and hard, even as a pit of hurt nestles in the lower regions of his belly, threatening to squash the tiny flutter of hope that he’s wrong. Please let him be wrong.   
  
San’s features tense before his face pulls into an expression of sorrow that Wooyoung recognizes far too easily. Recognizes because he’d worn the exact same expression for months after San’s death. “Woo… Wooyoung, it’s me. It’s Sannie.”   
  
How long has he waited to hear that voice? Those words? How many nights did he spend in those first few months after San’s death, wandering the forest in the hopes he might somehow find his love out here in the darkness? How many nights did he lie in dreams that so quickly turned into nightmares, twisting and morphing from something so sweet and hopeful into something dark and hellish, until all he could do was scream and scream and scream? Too many nights. Too many tears. Too much hope resting on a hopeless endeavour that only left him hurting. Wooyoung stays silent. His eyes drag over what he remembers of San, lingering on what he doesn’t. If this is a reflection, it’s a near perfect one. They had almost everything correct, from San’s wiry yet firm build, the angular cut of his jaw and the tiny dimples on either side of his mouth. Almost everything… except the color of his eyes.  
  
His _blue_ eyes.   
  
No. San’s eyes were the color of milk chocolate. A rich brown flecked with gold dust. The sort of brown that lightens to a honeyed golden in the sunlight. The sort of brown Wooyoung had been able to stare at for hours. The sky blue eyes staring back at him feel cold in comparison. Foreign and unknown.  
  
Closing his own eyes, Wooyoung draws in a slow, shaking breath before he pulls back. His grip remains firm on San’s wrists, pulling the other with him until they’re both upright. Even the height is the same, he thinks idly. Nearly everything is as it was… but the eyes… He can’t help but stare up at them, searching their depths in foolish hope that he might see his San in there. He wants to believe. Wants to be naive and stupid and just… believe that his San is alive. That he hadn’t been killed by the Darkness.   
  
Face to face, bathed in the soft light of the moon, San looks… exactly how Wooyoung remembers even with the slight differences that he can attribute to time. Slightly taller. Leaner. Broader in the shoulders than Wooyoung could ever be. He was thinner though. Wooyoung’s hands had never been able to fully circle San’s wrists before. And there’s a shadow in his eyes that Wooyoung has never seen before. Expression softening, Wooyoung’s grip loosens around San’s wrists, his resolve starting to crumble under the weight of… well, everything.   
  
“Woo--”  
  
“Wooyoung! Are you alright?”   
  
San tenses in his grip, body bracing against Wooyoung as Hongjoong’s voice rings through the silence. Biting back a growl, Wooyoung shoves San foward, twisting his arms behind his back to keep him restrained just as the older Guardians step out of the shadows.   
  
Wooyoung wonders if he’d looked as surprised and haunted as Hongjoong and Seonghwa do the moment they both lay eyes on their prisoner. He wonders if he’d looked as angry as Hongjoong does seconds later, as heartbroken as Seonghwa looks in the fleeting seconds before he schools his expression into one of cool indifference. Hongjoong’s eyes turn to him but Wooyoung can’t meet his gaze. He keeps his eyes lowered, fingers tight around San’s wrists, heart beating out a tempestuous rhythm in his chest.   
  
“...”  
  
“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa’s voice breaks the fragile silence as Hongjoong slowly approaches Wooyoung and San. This close to him, Wooyoung can feel the way San’s pulse quickens under his fingertips, can hear the way his breathing shallows, and then, as Hongjoong comes to a halt just in front of them, the way his breath hitches.  
  
Hongjoong doesn’t speak and Wooyoung can’t bring himself to face the elder, terrified of what he might say, what he might do. But perhaps he’s even more terrified of what this might mean. It feels like San’s body pressed against him. Hell, it even smells like him, fresh and comforting, like clean linen and a warm hug. After years spent in the elder’s arms, Wooyoung would like to think he’d remember something as basic as what San smells like. He’s terrified of what this means, and like a coward, he’ll happily refuse to face it until there’s no other choice. Slowly, his eyes lift to meet Hongjoong’s fiery gaze. The elder is pissed. Can see it in the way his jaw clenches tight. The way a tiny muscle ticks in his forehead. The way his upper lip starts to twitch in the corner.  
  
“Restrain him. Make sure it’s tight, Wooyoung. If he escapes, it’s on your head.”  
  
He doesn’t mean to flinch at Hongjoong’s tone. He really doesn’t. And whether or not Hongjoong notices the way he recoils slightly, he doesn’t point it out, much to Wooyoung’s relief. Hongjoong doesn’t think he can do this. Clearly their young leader believes Wooyoung is too soft to deal with the sudden return of his believed-to-be-dead lover. Wooyoung tries to not let it get to him, but Hongjoong’s vote of no confidence makes his chest tighten with a suffocating sort of hurt he’s going to feel later. Instead he tosses the bundle of silver rope into Wooyoung’s outstretched hand, casts one more glance at the imposter standing between them and then turns away. If he’d ever wanted to know what was going on inside Hongjoong’s head, now is not the time.   
  
“...Woo, please…”  
  
“Don’t.” Wooyoung’s attention snaps back to San at the sound of the older male’s voice, hands squeezing tight enough to leave bruises around San’s pale wrists. “...please, just… Don’t.”  
  
The words come out forced, acrid and burning on the tip of his tongue. He turns his focus to wrapping the silver rope around San’s wrists, looping back and forth to keep him from getting free; because focusing on that is better than latching onto the way San’s body shakes in his hold, the way his shoulders slump down in defeat, the way his voice softens to a whispered “...I’m sorry…”  
  
Anything is better than that.  
  


-x-  
  


“...This is a stupid fucking idea. Are you sure about this?”   
  
The portal, its power weak and already beginning to fade before them, shimmers like an oil slick in the air. One of the figures, taller than the rest, turns to his companions. His eyes move over each of them, exhaustion settling around the edges of his vision as he sighs softly. No, he’s not sure about this. It hadn’t been their decision to send San alone. He’d worked hard to convince them that this was the right thing to do. That somehow letting San break into Wonderland on his own without any sort of aid was the right idea. _If we go in as a group, they’ll catch us all and then where will we be? We need to make them believe they have the element of surprise. Even if one of us gets captured, the rest of us can get in and deal with them if it comes to it.  
  
_“Of course not. But it wasn’t exactly my decision, was it?”  
  
“You think they’ll kill him on sight?” A deeper voice draws his attention, and he turns to face one of the others. There’s something almost angry in his tone, something that burns in the darkness of his eyes. “Can’t trust any of them.”  
  
“We have to have faith in San. I don’t think they’ll kill him on sight, but he’ll have to be careful.”  
  
“And if they do?”  
  
Shaking his head, he turns back to the portal, watching it slowly fade out of existence. It wouldn’t be an easy feat to open it again. That sort of energy would require weeks of preparation. Had required weeks of preparation, and until they could open it again, San was on his own. “...if they do...We’ll have to pay them a visit ourselves.”


	2. My Way

Wooyoung tries not to pay attention to how familiar San’s body feels against his own. Tries not to pay attention to the way San’s breath catches in his throat every time Wooyoung’s hands shift against his wrists. Definitely tries not to pay attention to the small, kindling flame of hope that burns in his chest.   
  
This isn’t his San. He knows that. He watched his San get dragged away by shadows, listened to the screams echoing through the forest. While they’d never found signs of a body, Wooyoung knew better than to expect one. Knew better than to hope. But then…   
  
He’s hoping now, isn’t he?   
  
Wooyoung is hoping, beyond all logical thought, beyond his own brain telling him he’s wrong, that no matter how different he looks, how different he sounds and behaves… no matter what he’d heard, that this is still his San. Because the alternative isn’t something he wants to accept. Can’t accept. The alternative… that the San in his arms is a twisted Reflection of the man he loved dearly. Or even worse: that this is _his_ San, corrupted by the Darkness. He can’t cope with either of those options. He also can’t cope with the way Hongjoong drags him out of Wooyoung’s grip, forces him into the chair far too roughly. With the way San looks, slumped in the chair with his hands still bound behind his back.   
  
San looks broken.   
  
Wooyoung wonders if he looks like San does. If that’s what Hongjoong and Seonghwa see each day when they wake up.   
  
“Wooyoung, it’s not him.”   
  
“Of course it’s him! You can see him, he’s sitting right there! It has to be him.”  
  
“...You know the Darkness can create images. Dark reflections of the souls they harvest. It isn’t him.”  
  
“Shut up. San would have never let them take him like that! You know how much he hated them. You know how much they took from him. He would never let them take what made him good and kind and sweet… and turn that against him.”  
  
“He’d have no choice in the matter, Wooyoung. If someone resists, it just makes them want to corrupt them even more. Resistance just means more pain for the victim. And if the Darkness can’t turn them, they kill them and turn them into a remnant of their former selves. But twisted… darker.”  
  
Hongjoong’s hand flies out in a wild gesture, arcing through the air towards the figure seated across from them. Wooyoung tries not to flinch at his sudden motion. He knows, logically, that Hongjoong wouldn’t just hit him like that. But his emotions are raw. It feels like he’s covered in open wounds, painful and mind-numbing. He tries not to flinch when Hongjoong rounds on him, his expression wild. His eyes are filled with fury, angry and bloodshot. The air around them crackles with energy, drawn into existence by Hongjoong’s anger. Wooyoung hates it when he gets angry.   
  
“That is not San, Wooyoung! Not the San you remember. Not our San! Whoever that is, it’s not our San. He’s the enemy, and we shouldn’t be standing here arguing this. If, somehow, that is San… even more reason to kill him.”  
  
“Stop calling him a fucking victim! He’s sitting right there! He would never - NEVER - let them twist him against us…He’d die before he let that happen.”  
  
“...then how can you be so sure that’s him? If Sannie would die before he could be turned against us, against you, how can you be so sure that who ever is sitting in that chair is San… and not his reflection?”  
  
The words sting. Wooyoung knows Hongjoong doesn’t say them out of malice. Wooyoung knows Hongjoong would never try to hurt him like that. Their leader is trying to be calming, soothing, trying as always to protect those he cared about. But Wooyoung refuses to believe it. He refuses to believe that San might be dead. That this isn’t his San. That his San… might have suffered immensely for his stubbornness to conform. Lips twisting into a scowl, Wooyoung pushes past Hongjoong and the ever silent Seonghwa, ignoring the way Seonghwa reaches for his arm, ignoring the soft noise of protest that comes from HongJoong. His gaze remains firm on the figure cloaked in black, memorizing the hard lines of his jaw and cheekbones, comparing them to the San in his memories. It has to be him. They’re wrong. It has to be San. It has to be…   
  
“...San--” Wooyoung’s voice betrays him as he comes to a halt in front of the seated male. His voice betrays him, the edges wavering and coarse, tone watery as the sound dips high and then cuts off.   
  
Wooyoung doesn’t cry.   
  
Not anymore, anyway. In the first few months after San’s disappearance, it seemed like all he did was cry, nights were spent tossing and turning and being woken by his own panicked screams as nightmares tormented him daily. Not even a physical closeness to Wonderland could soothe his ruffled feathers in the beginning. But slowly the nightmares faded. Slowly, it became easier to get up in the morning. Slowly he began to heal. Even if his heart continued to crumble into pieces. He had two other boys who cared for him, loved him. It wasn’t the same as having San… but it was almost good enough.   
  
But Wooyoung doesn’t cry.   
  
Not during sad movies, or in the heat of an argument, not even when he was injured a month ago and would have definitely cried. And it isn’t even that he won’t cry. He can’t. Not anymore. His tears dried up a long time ago. The others don’t bring it up, but he knows it worries them. He knows they talk about him some nights, when they think he’s gone to bed and can’t hear them whispering in the next room. He knows they’re worried… but he hates the pitying looks they give him sometimes. Hates how low, how weak, how useless it makes him feel.   
  
The male in the chair doesn’t respond immediately. Pale eyes framed by dark strands slowly lift to meet Wooyoung’s. A muscle tightens in his jaw and then the corner of his mouth ticks up in a smile. That one action, a fleeting smile, is enough to lighten the edges of his face. Almost at once, he looks younger, softer, and though the light doesn’t rise to his eyes, Wooyoung can almost see it there.   
  
Almost.  
  
He’s never felt so far away from San.   
  
“Wooyoung… it’s me, I promise.”   
  
Without the shadows hiding the full canvas of his features from Wooyoung’s gaze, San looks exhausted. He looks like the world has dragged him through the dirt, caring little for how much it might hurt him. He looks, for lack of a better word, like he’s back from the dead. Almost poetic in a way. Wooyoung doesn’t miss the irony in that. For better or worse, San was back. But…   
  
“You don’t believe me.”  
  
Wooyoung doesn’t speak. Can’t speak. The words stick in his throat. His breath catches and he steps back. San’s lips pull down in a frown. “You have to believe me, Woo. It’s not safe. You’ve got to--”  
  
“Enough!”   
  
Wooyoung definitely means to flinch when Hongjoong yells, his entire body freezing even as he jolts away from San. It’s all becoming too much. Like the room is closing in around him. It feels like cotton has taken over where his lungs once resided. Like his blood is rushing in his ears. The world roars past him and he almost disconnects when he’s pulled back by a strong grip on his shoulder. He falls, freefalling through the mire of his emotions until he lands against a firm chest, soothing hands settling against his shoulders. Seonghwa. Unblinking, Wooyoung watches Hongjoong advance on San… on whoever it is sitting in that chair, wearing the love of his life’s face so nonchalantly.   
  
He doesn’t even realize he’s crying - actually crying - as tears slip silently over the apples of his cheeks to drip in fat droplets off his chin. But Seonghwa’s fingers drag across his cheeks, wiping them up. Wooyoung doesn’t dwell on the fact that after all this time, it’s San’s presence that has him silently crying. Can’t dwell on it, not when Seonghwa is right there, wiping them away as they fall.His voice hums a quiet comfort against Wooyoung’s ear, and then his grip on Wooyoung’s shoulder tightens.   
  
“You don’t get to talk to him. You talk to me. Or better yet, you keep that venomous tongue behind your teeth and when I kill you, I’ll make it painless,” Hongjoong’s fingers twist through San’s hair, yanking the male’s head back far enough for Wooyoung to see the way his body tenses, the way his Adam’s apple bobs nervously.  
  
He almost looks pretty like that.   
  
Wooyoung thinks back to nights spent with his San. Under the stars. San’s head tipping back against the grass. A soft sigh. Tears against pale skin. A smile.   
  
A low sob, involuntary and ragged, rips from Wooyoung’s throat as his head drops.   
  
“Watch.”  
  
Pain flares across Wooyoung’s scalp like dozens of tiny insects burrowing into his skin, a spiderweb of pain that builds from where Seonghwa’s fingers are curled in his hair. His grip is tight, pulling just enough to drag Wooyoung from the haze of his thoughts in time to watch the way Hongjoong’s right hand digs into the flesh of San’s throat. Seonghwa remains stiff behind him, grip firm in his hair, forcing Wooyoung to watch as Hongjoong’s fingers curl tighter. San’s entire body convulses as Hongjoong bears down on him, thumb digging into his larynx as a strangled, choking noise falls from his parted lips.   
  
“Hongjoong, please!” Wooyoung pulls out of Seonghwa’s grip before the elder can stop him. The world continues to dip and spin around him as he lurches forward but somehow Wooyoung remains upright as he grasps at Hongjoong’s arm. “You’re hurting him!”   
  
“Hurting him?! I should be killing him, Wooyoung! Can’t you see what he’s doing? He’s trying to get under your skin. You let him get close to you and you’ll start listening to his lies, you’ll start believing them because you want to believe that this is our San. You think you’re strong enough to resist… but you aren’t. And I won’t let you bring Wonderland down just because you’re too weak to do what needs to be done!”  
  
Hongjoong wrenches his hand away from San’s throat, deaf to the way the male wheezes as he doubles over. Instead his nails dig into Wooyoung’s forearm, forcing the younger to release his grip with a low whine of pain. He hates seeing Hongjoong like this. Hates seeing the anger in his eyes. Hates the pity. He’s as much a Guardian as they are. He’s as capable as they are.  
  
As his legs buckle beneath him, Wooyoung sinks down. Hongjoong goes with him slowly, hand still gripping his forearm in a bruisingly tight grip.  
  
“We watched you fall apart, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong starts, his expression falling. “You had nightmares for weeks. Eden thought we’d lose you the way we lost San. For months we couldn’t do anything but watch you suffer. And then it stopped. Do you even realize you’re crying? Woo… you haven’t cried in months.”  
  
Wooyoung sniffles. He doesn’t speak. Isn’t even sure he can speak. Can somehow form the words needed to express how he’s feeling. But that’s the problem isn’t it? Wooyoung has no idea how he’s feeling. All he can do is look up at Hongjoong, eyes wide, tears clinging to his lashes and slipping down his cheeks. Hongjoong sighs softly, loosening his grip on Wooyoung’s arm as he settles back on his knees.   
  
“...Woo, you can’t keep doing this. That’s not your San. I understand that you _can’t_ do it, but that’s why Seonghwa and I are here. Just… leave him to us, okay?”   
  
Hongjoong’s voice is as soft as the hand that now rests on Wooyoung’s knee. Comforting. Reassuring even as he signs San’s death sentence. Wooyoung can’t look at him, can’t look into the eyes of the one who would so willingly take away Wooyoung’s chance to find out the truth. Emitting a soft strangled noise, he pushes Hongjoong’s hand away from his knee before turning away from him.   
  
“I can’t… Hyung… he looks so much like him. How do you _know_ it isn’t him?”  
  
With his back turned, Wooyoung can’t see the way Hongjoong’s expression hardens once again. Can’t see the way Hongjoong straightens and throws a dirty look in San’s direction. But he hears the bite in his voice, the rough anger that settles on Hongjoong’s tongue.   
  
“I’m not blinded by a weak heart, Wooyoung. It’s obvious. Seonghwa, take Woo. I’ll deal with… _him_.”  
  
Seonghwa moves without saying a word. As Wooyoung is tugged to his feet, he chances a look back at San, only to stumble when he meets those icy blue eyes. San’s staring at him, his expression indecipherable and his eyes shaking as Wooyoung stares back. Is Hongjoong right? Is Wooyoung being blinded by his love? Is he chasing a hopeless dream that this is _his_ San?   
  
Is he really that blind?   
  
Choking back a soft noise, Wooyoung tears his gaze away from San’s as Seonghwa starts pulling him out of the room. He doesn’t see the way San turns towards them as they leave. Doesn’t see the way San’s features harden, the way his teeth clench and his jaw tightens. Doesn’t see the way he pulls at the bindings around his wrist until the rope begins to loosen.   
  
All he hears as he’s led down the hall towards their bedrooms is Hongjoong’s low snarl, an aborted shout and then the sound of a chair breaking before a body hits the floor. But with Seonghwa’s grip still firm on his arm, there’s no way Wooyoung is getting away. He tries not to think about San lying in some awkward position. He definitely tries not to think about Hongjoong lying there, neck twisted unnaturally, San standing over him.   
  
Wooyoung is so tired.   
  
All he wants to do is sleep.   
  
Wooyoung remains mired in his thoughts as Seonghwa guides him into his bedroom, barely even responding as the elder tugs off his coat and shirt before wordlessly handing him one of his sleep shirts. He changes in a daze, eyes staring blankly at the far wall as Seonghwa’s fingers comb through his hair before his fingertips lightly tap against Wooyoung’s temples. It doesn’t occur to him that Seonghwa might be using his gifts on him, not even when his limbs grow tired and his eyes begin to droop.   
  
“Sleep, Wooyoung. It will all be better in the morning.”  
  
Wooyoung is asleep before his head hits the pillow, coaxed into slumber by Seonghwa’s gentle gift of persuasion. 

-x-

“You told Wooyoung you were going to kill me. Why haven’t you?”  
  
Hongjoong folds his arms as he leans against the cold stone, eyes dragging over San’s dishevelled form in the cell opposite him. After Seonghwa had left with Wooyoung, San had surprised Hongjoong by lunging at him, the silver rope lying useless at his feet. He’d been caught off guard and the bruise forming around one eye is testament to that. When he wanted to, San had always moved faster than the rest of them. It would make sense his reflection carried those traits.   
  
“You might carry useful information. I’m not so bloodthirsty that I’m willing to ignore that,” he replies quietly, frowning. “I don’t plan on letting you try and convince Wooyoung of your lies, though. You won’t be seeing him again.”  
  
San sighs softly, dragging his fingers through his hair before dropping down onto the pathetic cot in the far corner. “I’m not the enemy, Hongjoong. After everything you’ve seen out there, how can you not believe me? Wonderland is in danger!”  
  
“...After everything we’ve seen? You mean everything you’ve done. All the bodies. The soulless humans walking around with no emotions, no remorse, no guilt, no sanity? Yes. We’ve seen what you and yours have been doing. We’ve seen the bodies. The reflections. We’ve seen the aftermath of an attack. The blood. The screaming. We’ve seen it all. The fact that you think any of that might change how we see you is laughable. Our San died six months ago. You… whoever you are, you took him from us.”  
  
Hongjoong’s voice feels like razor blades against his skin, jarring and angled in just the right way to cut straight through to the bone.   
  
“Nothing to say?” Hongjoong scoffs, expression derisive… mocking. “Of course not. You couldn’t even show up looking like the real San. If you’d put a little more effort into your appearance, we might have been a little more receptive. Wonderland is protected. I don’t know how you managed to open the portal, but you won’t be doing it a second time. You lot-- You want to be caught, don’t you? Attacking the humans. Sucking the life out of them. Leaving them as nothing more than soulless husks. Why? Why are you doing it?”   
  
_ Why are we doing it? _ San almost laughs, eyes lifting to watch Hongjoong carefully. “You’re fucking dense. Why should I tell you  anything? It’s not like you’re going to actually believe me.”  
  
“...not even for Wooyoung’s sake? Are you really that far removed from our San that you don’t even feel  _ anything _ for him?”  
  
Whipping his head up at the sound of Seonghwa’s low voice, San watches the elder come into view before he deflates, sinking back into the cot a little more. “Seonghwa… Everything I’m doing, I’m doing for Wooyoung. Nothing I can say will make you believe me, will it?”   
  
Seonghwa frowns. “No. You and yours are murderers. Evil. There’s nothing you could  _ ever _ say that could change that. So shut your mouth.” Without sparing San another glance, Seonghwa turns to Hongjoong before shaking his head. “I put Woo to sleep. He won’t wake up for a few days… long enough for us to deal with this mess.”  
  
Hongjoong remains quiet, mulling over this new information before he glances back to San. “Good. Come on. Let’s leave him to his thoughts. I could use a bath and something to eat.”  
  
As their footsteps echo off the walls, San drags his hand over his face with a low sigh. This is going to be harder than he thought. “...Guess I need to be smarter about this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you're enjoying the story so far. Comments are very much appreciated, it lets me know if I'm doing something right or wrong.


	3. Illusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Hit a motivation drop sometime mid March, and it's taken me forever to get back in the swing of writing. Hopefully updates will come more frequently. 
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying this so far though

“This is ridiculous,” Seonghwa rolls onto his back with a sigh, eyes staring up at the ceiling as Hongjoong sits up next to him. “Wooyoung’s going to know you didn’t kill him. He might not go down to the dungeons all that often, but he’s not stupid.”   
  
It’s been three days since they first dragged not-San in from the forest. Wooyoung hadn’t yet woken from his persuasion-driven slumber, and though they were supposed to use this time of relative peace to question not-San, Hongjoong had barely been down to see their prisoner since that first night. Seonghwa had been the reluctant volunteer, making sure their prisoner had food and water - _‘I’m not going to let him starve while we can still get information out of him, Hongjoong, we’re not savages’_ \- but he refused to entertain not-San, ignoring his questions and his comments.   
  
Unlike Hongjoong, Seonghwa isn’t prone to the same level of violence… but after spending five minutes alone with not-San, even the eldest Guardian had wanted to pull his tongue from his head in order to silence him.   
  
But that doesn’t mean he’s okay with spending time with him.  
  
Especially not while Wooyoung is still unconscious.   
  
...and especially not while they haven’t even told Eden of not-San’s current status as their prisoner.  
  
Seonghwa is oftentimes thankful that Hongjoong is the leader of their small group, chosen for his intelligence and natural affinity towards leadership. It means Seonghwa isn’t the one who has to deal with things like this. Not that Eden terrifies him. Alright, Eden terrifies him.   
  
“You know he’s only got our best interests at heart, right?”   
  
Whipping his head towards the younger, Seonghwa appraises Hongjoong carefully before he makes a face. Ah. He’d said that aloud, hadn’t he? Seonghwa stifles a groan as he sits up, hands immediately reaching for the warmth of Hongjoong’s body. “That may be true… but something about him just makes my skin crawl. I know he’s trustworthy. He’s done so much for us… looked after Wooyoung after Sannie died… but I don’t think we should tell him yet.”   
  
“He’ll be angrier if we keep it from him, Hwa,” Hongjoong replies, expression pulling tight as he turns in the elder’s hold and slides into the secure warmth of his lap. “For all we know, San was sent in as a diversion so the Darkness can target somewhere else. Eden needs to know, for Wonderland’s sake. It’s not just about us, and whether we don’t like him or not.”   
  
“I know that, Hongjoong. I do, honestly. But it just… feels off. We’re Guardians. We should be trusted to know what to do, and our decisions should be respected.” Seonghwa shakes his head, fingers pressing into the grooves of Hongjoong’s hips before he shifts and presses the younger into the sheets. “Wooyoungie won’t wake up for another day or two… we have time. But we need to come up with a plan…”   
  
Hongjoong laughs softly as he hooks an arm around Seonghwa’s neck, fingers trailing over his shoulder before he pulls him down to kiss him. “We can come up with a plan. Later. Like you said, Wooyoung’s asleep. Not-San is secure in his cell… and you’re right here with me. Focus on me for a little while, Hwa.”   
  
  
  
“Couldn’t even brush your hair after fucking, huh?”   
  
Hongjonog wrinkles his nose at San’s tone as he slows to a stop outside the other’s cell. This isn’t how he wanted to do things. If it had been up to him from the beginning, they wouldn’t have even brought San back to be questioned. If he or even Seonghwa had been the one to find San in the forest, instead of Wooyoung, they would have killed him and lied to keep Wooyoung from spiralling.   
  
Is that the problem though? Are they going about this the wrong way?   
  
Is there even a chance this could be their San?  
  
Casting his eyes over the prone figure sitting slumped against the far wall, Hongjoong frowns. No. There are too many differences. Even if he could somehow look past the difference in appearances between this San and their San, their personalities were too different. Their San had been softer around the edges. Sweeter. For the longest time Hongjoong had wanted to keep him from the worst of the fighting, believing San to be far too soft to be a guardian. His warm smiles and high, tinkling laughter felt so out of place in their world.   
  
In the end, he’d been right.   
  
They’d come in the middle of the night, ambushing the four of them as soon as they’d stepped through the portal. Seonghwa had tried to fend them off in that initial attack. He still suffers from the injury he’d sustained that night, a bone deep ache that he pretends doesn’t hurt as much as Hongjoong knows it does. But none of them had suffered quite as much as Wooyoung had when they’d heard San’s screams. No. This wasn’t their San.   
  
Hongjoong’s expression hardens. He steps closer, appraising San carefully before coming to a stop a foot away from the steel bars. “Obviously you aren’t working alone. I know there are more of you. They must think highly of you, leaving you alone like this. I won’t ask you to drop your facade, because I know it’s not going to happen. I want answers. Give me something truthful and maybe I’ll kill you quickly. Draw it out… and I’ll do the same.”  
  
“I’ve only ever been honest to you, Hongjoong,” San lifts his head slightly, pale eyes staring out at the young leader as he scowls. “Why don’t you just kill me, huh? It’s not for Wooyoung’s benefit. If it was, you’d have done it already. Seonghwa put him to sleep, didn’t he? There’s no way he’s waking from that any time soon. You have all the time in the world to kill me. But you won’t. You can’t. Because if you kill me, Wooyoung will _never_ look at you the same way. Whether I’m real or not, I’m still his. If you kill me, you’ll lose him.”  
  
There’s something sinister in the way he speaks, lips pulling wide into a grin that Hongjoong can barely see in the shadow. “...maybe you should. Kill me, Hongjoong. Kill me, and lose another person. I’m not going to tell you shit. You won’t believe me a-”  
  
In the time it takes for San to blink, Hongjoong is standing before him, body still humming with the faint rush of power he’d exerted to phase straight through the bars. A cold chill runs down San’s spine as a slender hand claws at his throat, mimicking the way Hongjoong had held him down when they’d first captured him. His words fail him, and he chokes back a hiss as Hongjoong shoves him back.   
  
“You think I won’t?” Hongjoong’s words are an angry growl as San’s head collides with the stone, sending pain spiking through his skull. “Wooyoung deserves a chance to recover. He nearly died after your _Darkness_ took the love of his life.”   
  
“Kill me then,” San whispers breathlessly. “Kill me… and lose Wooyoung.”  
  
The threat hangs heavy in the air. That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? If Hongjoong kills San, whether this is their San or a piss poor Reflection, he’ll lose Wooyoung too. Wooyoung who had only ever been a shining beacon in their world of violence and fear. Seonghwa was right. They needed to come up with a better plan than this. A way to convince San to tell them the truth, to prepare for the worst. To be ready to soften the fallout when Wooyoung spirals again.   
  
Hongjoong’s eyes narrow. His fingers curl tight, forcing a choked out whine from the male beneath him. It would be so easy… so easy to just squeeze the life out of him. So easy to snuff out one more enemy like they’ve been doing for years.  
  
“No.”He sighs. Drops his hands. Takes a single step back as San doubles over. It’s hard to contain his anger, evident in the way his fingers shake at his sides, in the way a vein ticks in his forehead, the way his left eyelid twitches repeatedly.   
  
Even as he sucks in a shaky breath, San laughs. The sound of it hits Hongjoong in all the wrong ways. Scratchy and hoarse. Darker. Deeper than the laugh from his memories. He might look like San on the outside… but…  
  
“Keep your lies to yourself, shadow,” Hongjoong says quietly, expression shuttering closed. “I don’t care.”  
  
He half expects San to lunge for him when he turns his back. It’s what he would do. If he were lying there, throat ringed with bruises, captured and imprisoned in his enemy’s dungeons… he’d take every opportunity possible to try and escape. He’d fight back, and he’d fight back hard. Because he has people to fight for. People to go home to. Who does this San have? Does the Darkness care for its own? Would San take the risk of attacking Hongjoong only to get lost in the maze of halls and empty rooms?   
  
Hongjoong expects an attack, so his shoulders stay rigid as he slowly steps through the bars as if they were never there to begin with. He’s expecting an attack, so the sight of San still on the ground, staring plaintively up at him as if _Hongjoong_ were the one in the wrong, surprises him. Why hadn’t San tried anything? There had been several moments there where the younger might’ve actually gotten the upper hand, if the way he’d fought back previously was anything to go by. Hongjoong frowns, teeth grinding together in thought before he shakes his head and turns away.   
  
“You’ll tell us what you know… eventually.”  
  
San doesn’t respond. Barely even breathes. Keeps his eyes lowered, hands curled into loose fists in his lap as Hongjoong’s footsteps echo through the quiet, empty dungeons. A soft sigh, and then his head drops forward.  
  
“...yeah, I’ll tell you what I know.”

  
  
\--x--

  
  
It takes Wooyoung four days to wake up.  
  
Four days after running into San in the forest, Wooyoung stirs. His head aches, body tense and stiff from being still for so long. His lips feel dry and chapped, and his throat raw. Honestly, it feels like he got hit with a bus. Or any other sort of large vehicle. Groaning softly, he rolls onto his stomach, half pressing his face into the too warm pillow beneath his head. At first, he’s content to just lie there, waiting for his limbs to regain some strength, waiting for his breathing to regulate and the sleep-fog to clear from his head. It’s been a long time since Seonghwa had to employ the use of his gifts to knock Wooyoung out.   
  
The last time had been when San had died.   
  
Seonghwa had had to keep Wooyoung magically incapacitated for close to a month. There’s not a whole lot he remembers about those days. When he’d been awake, it had felt like a dream, foggy and heavy, like he was walking through a thick, invisible mire. When he’d been asleep, there’d been no dreams. No nightmares. Just empty blackness. Needless to say, Wooyoung hadn’t slept much once Seonghwa had stopped. He hadn’t wanted to go back to that place. The darkness, an all encompassing black nothingness, scared him. _Scares_ him. On the nights when he doesn’t dream, Wooyoung suffers in empty nothing. And on the nights when he _does_ dream, he dreams of screams, of blood. Of death.   
  
Wooyoung’s dreams are his own personal Hell. And he’d prefer to never go back there.   
  
“...Oh, you’re finally awake.”   
  
Lifting his arm slightly, Wooyoung peers under the limb to gaze up at Seonghwa as the elder approaches his bed. His gaze lingers for a few moments before dropping to the tray held carefully in Seonghwa’s hands. Almost before his brain realizes, Wooyoung’s stomach grumbles in protest.  
  
“Come on, sit up. It’s been four days and I know how hungry you get when you skip just one meal,” Seonghwa ignores the way Wooyoung whines and attempts to burrow his way deeper into the pillows in favor of setting the tray down on the small table next to his bed. “Even went out and sourced some of your favorite meals from the outside. I know you used to sneak out for street food.”   
  
Wooyoung’s smile is damn near infectious as he straightens, hair a wild floof of dark locks that fall around his features in a cascade. He’s still a little groggy, head stuffed with remnants of sleep and exhaustion, but as he sits there, hands warm around a bowl of spicy rice cakes and noodles, his smile begins to falter.   
  
“...did you kill him?” His voice is small when he eventually finds it, eyes glued to the bowl of food in his grip. He can’t bring himself to look up at Seonghwa. Can’t bring himself to meet the elder’s eyes when he inevitably tells him that Hongjoong did away with their prisoner.   
  
“Wooyoung…”  
  
“Just… Just tell me, Hwa. Did you kill him?”   
  
Seonghwa doesn’t speak, though Wooyoung can see the way he fidgets almost nervously, hands twisting together as he idly spins the ring on his left index finger. Somehow the elder’s silence perturbs him more than an actual answer and slowly Wooyoung lifts his gaze away from his food just as Seonghwa sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat.   
  
“No. Hongjoong locked him in the dungeon,” Seonghwa says softly,brow furrowing as he shakes his head a little. “We’ve not talked to him much. Hongjoong tried, and got nothing but vague threats and lies out of him.”  
  
Wooyoung doesn’t know if that answer is better or worse.   
  
Waking up to find out they’d killed San while he’d been unconscious might have hurt him immensely - and he knows it would have, because even if that’s not _his_ San, it’s still San - but waking up to find out they’d not only _not_ killed San, but left him locked up in their otherwise empty dungeons… Wooyoung doesn’t know how he feels about that. Aside from the gnawing cold settling in his chest, of course. He knows what that feeling is. Dread. Dread and panic and fear.   
  
Why hadn’t they killed him? Hongjoong had seemed so intent on it when San had been captured. Why hadn’t he just… done it? Why wait? Was it because of Wooyoung himself? Had Hongjoong stayed his hand because of Wooyoung? Because he was afraid Wooyoung wouldn’t be able to handle it?   
  
“Get out of your damn head,” Seonghwa snaps, “The reflection knows things about the Darkness. We need to find out what he knows. Hongjoong’s not so stupid and bloodthirsty that he’d just kill the first source of solid information we’ve had in years.”  
  
“...no, of course not… you’re right,” Wooyoung nods slowly, because of course. Of _course_ Seonghwa is right. He’s just stupid. Stupid. Worthless. Weak. “Does Eden know?”  
  
“...ah, not yet. We were discussing how best to bring it up to him. The Heart needs to be attended to in the next few days, I think the three of us should go see him together. Talk this through logically. Eden will be able to help us find a solution.”  
  
Or Eden will demand they kill San and dispose of his corpse.   
  
“Right, right yeah. Okay,” thoughts drifting, Wooyoung slowly prods at his food, no longer quite as hungry as he was before. “Eden will know. Thanks… hyung. For bringing me food. For… helping me sleep.”  
  
Silence. And then slowly, gently, Seonghwa’s fingers card through Wooyoung’s unruly hair, delicate touch smoothing the fluffy locks until they sit more neatly on his head. Wooyoung almost leans into the touch, eyes closing as a soft, broken sigh spills from his barely parted lips. He missed this. Missed something as simple as fingers running through his hair. Missed the warmth of another’s hand in his, of another body curled up next to his in bed. His eyes sting, chest tightening as Seonghwa’s touch remains, fingertips slowly stroking over his hair and down the back of his neck. He misses belonging to someone. Loving someone.  
  
Loving San.   
  
“Eat, Woo… it won’t do you any good to miss meals,” Seonghwa whispers. His voice remains gentle, patient, and for a moment Wooyoung simply basks in the comfort of it. Then Seonghwa’s touch disappears as the elder straightens. “Hongjoong will be glad to hear you’ve woken. Get some rest, eat… and come join us later. He misses you.”   
  
Wooyoung doesn’t speak as Seonghwa takes the empty tray, eyes still downcast, staring pointedly at where his fingers bleed white from gripping the bowl a little too hard. He barely even moves, barely even breathes, until the door shuts and he hears Seonghwa’s footsteps retreating down the hall.   
  
And after setting his bowl of food to the side, Wooyoung falls back into his pillows… and falls to pieces. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed reading this so far. Kudos and comments are more than appreciated (they let me know you actually enjoy reading what I create). If you would like to follow my descent into madness, you're welcome to check out my writing account [twitter](https://twitter.com/peachwritings) or come say hi on my main account [twitter](https://twitter.com/JoongsPeach)


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